


Credit Where Credit Is Due

by jeni78



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Gen, I Don't Even Know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-27 04:55:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18190037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeni78/pseuds/jeni78
Summary: The Winchesters are confronted by some angry women. But it's probably not what you think. This is a new one, even for them. It's going to get them into some hot water... well okay, some cold soapy water.





	Credit Where Credit Is Due

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to everyone who was a victim of the great Credit Card Data Breach. I hope this at least somewhat makes you feel a tiny bit better.

It was supposed to be a quick lunch stop for the Winchesters. They had parked the car and gone into the little burgers-and-shakes restaurant and ordered at the counter. Dean was at the condiments stand, filling his pockets with ketchup packets and napkins, and Sam was just picking up his milkshake from the counter when the first woman walked in. 

“Ah-ha!” she shouted dramatically. The other patrons of the restaurant and the bored teenagers behind the counter all ignored her; this being the sort of establishment where dramatic confrontations were commonplace. Dean and Sam both glanced at her and then at each other in confusion as she glared back and forth between them, her eyes wild. “It’s you! I’ve finally caught up to you!” she hissed, pointing at one brother and then the other. 

“What’s us, sweetheart?” Dean said. His stance was wary, but not overly concerned. Angry women were par for the course for Dean Winchester, nothing to get alarmed over. If anyone could defuse this, it was Dean. 

“You two have been using _my_ credit card!” she said. She waved her phone in the air. On the screen was a display of a banking account statement, showing recent purchases. “Clothing stores, food delivery, tech stores, porn stores-” Sam turned to glare at Dean pointedly and shake his head. “Well joke’s on you, jerks! I turned on purchase alerts. I knew sooner or later I’d catch up to you!” The phone in her hand made a pinging noise, and she swiped. “Huh, look at that! I just spent $16 at this restaurant.” She gestured wildly around her. A nervous looking kid set a bag of food on the counter. The woman stalked over and snatched it before Dean could reach for it. 

“My burger,” he said mournfully. 

Sam had frozen in place at the outset of this display with the milkshake cup in his hands, the straw still pressed between his lips. He’d really been looking forward to this milkshake. The woman turned to him and slapped the shake out of his hands, splatting it onto the floor in a spray of chocolate ice cream. “That’s mine too,” she sneered. 

“We can explain,” Sam said anxiously, reaching toward her in a placating gesture. He was painfully aware of the attention that they were starting to attract, as even the clientele of this place couldn’t ignore such a scene. But they were soon outdone by even bigger commotion. 

The restaurant door swung open once again and Castiel walked in, bringing yet another angry woman. He had a firm grip on her shoulder as he steered her inside. His blue eyes were steely with anger, matched only by the fire in the woman’s own eyes. She held several shopping bags, which the Winchesters recognized as their most recent purchases. Walmart bags full of ammo and salt, and jeans and flannels and boots, the plastic handles of them looped over her arms. She looked nervous, but she also looked angry, and it seemed to be quite a battle which one would win. 

“Stop squirming!” Cas barked, making her jump. “Dean, I found this woman rifling through your belongings-” 

“-MY belongings!” she corrected indignantly. 

“-taking bags from your car,” Castiel amended, with a glare. “She insisted that these things are hers and when I refused to let the matter go, she demanded that I take her to ‘that cocky bastard who’s been shopping on my dime.’” He let her go so that he could make the finger quotes, and she backed away to stand near the other woman in solidarity. 

“I just want what I paid for,” she said. “I don’t even know what all this crap is, but you bought it with my card, so…” 

“...what is going on here?” Sam muttered. Suddenly the door swung open and more people filed inside and began surrounding the Winchesters. Mostly women, with a few enby’s and men scattered throughout the crowd. 

“We want our money back!” said a few of them. 

“Thieves!” others shouted. 

“Do you know how much aggravation this all has been?” one woman moaned. 

“I didn’t even want my wife to use the stupid credit card for this!” bitched a guy in the back of the crowd. 

“Wait, who are these guys? I thought it was that sexy Scotsman that did this,” said an elderly woman with short gray hair. She looked the Winchesters and Castiel over appraisingly and shrugged. “Can you guys at least put a kilt on? I skipped book club to come here!” 

“I thought it was vampires,” said a young kid standing near her. “I wouldn’t have ditched class for these old guys.” Sam and Dean both looked affronted. Dean held a hand to his chest. 

“So what do you have to say for yourselves, you filthy credit card scammers?” the first woman demanded, stepping forward. “I mean, do you ever think about how sucky this is for all of us? At best, it’s a little aggravation and a few annoying phone calls. At worst, many of us will miss meals, pay bills late, and have a whole snowball effect of crap from your stupid little scams.” 

“You don’t understand-” Dean began. 

“We wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t important,” Sam said. 

“Oh boohoo, get a job,” said someone from the center of the crowd. “Get two, get three.” 

“Or, like, ask for help. Start a GoFundMe,” added another. 

“Learn grantwriting and start a charitable foundation,” came another suggestion. 

“Have a car wash!” 

“Ooh, I’d pay for that!” A chorus of voices began chattering in agreement. 

The first woman grinned and placed her hand on Sam’s forearm. “Well, I think the crowd has spoken. I think you owe us that. I’ll even give you the burgers back. What do you say?” 

Sam, Dean, and Cas looked back and forth, holding a silent conference. Finally, Dean said. “Yeah, I guess we’ve gotta, huh?” 

Half an hour later, they’d seized a section of the parking lot and a hose had been run from the side of the building. Buckets, soap, and sponges were all lined up on the pavement near a line of cars ready to drive through the washing station. 

Sam, Dean, and Castiel had been outfitted in tiny cutoff denim shorts and nothing else. Sam’s hair was pulled back in a little ponytail, a bandana tied around his forehead as a sweat band. Dean wore mirrored sunglasses and was spraying himself with sunscreen. Castiel looked confused as he squeezed the soapy sponge. 

“C’mon man, it’s not rocket surgery. Just start scrubbing cars,” Dean said, leaning over the first car with a sponge in his hand. A chorus of gasps went up from the crowd, who’d set up lawn chairs to watch this performance. 

“How many cars do we have to wash?” Sam asked, dunking a sponge into a bucket of soapy water. 

“Eight hundred fifty three so far,” Cas said. He squirted some of the car polish on his finger, then tasted it. He made a face. “But apparently we will be having some helpers. The kilted gentleman and his wife, some cheerleaders, perhaps a few spaceship pilots or… I’m not sure what they meant by ‘storybook people.’” Sam squinted in confusion and shrugged. 

“Whatever. Just keep scrubbing,” Dean said. He was definitely enjoying all the attention, as he played up his movements every time the crowd whimpered or moaned when he’d bend over, or wring the water out of the sponge onto his torso. He was soaked with soapy water and sweat, but he still gave tender care to each car that he scrubbed, no matter how old or in how rough of shape. Sam took over rinsing the cars and toweling them off, and waving awkwardly at the section of the audience that had gathered near his end, though he blushed furiously whenever he actually caught anyone’s eye. Castiel remained somewhat confused, though he did have a knack for applying the polish to the clean cars. About halfway through the first car, he took a moment to retrieve his trench coat and slip it back on over the little denim shorts. It was an odd combination but he seemed more comfortable after that, and the group of admirers who’d gathered near his section seemed happier too. 

In the end, most of the people affected by the credit card scams were pretty happy with the impromptu sexy car wash show. It didn’t replace their lost time and funds, but it made everyone feel better about the Winchesters’ insistence that they were really the good guys here. Many of the people gave them generous cash tips, and soon they had more money than the pockets of those tiny shorts could hold. 

“So guys… can you do this every time you need money in the future, instead of stealing from people like us?” said the woman with the bags of items she’d retrieved from the Impala. 

“Sure,” Dean said, stroking her hair back from her cheek. “Sorry sweetheart, I really am.” 

“Well I appreciate that.” She handed him the bags. “Guess you might as well keep these. I’ll never use that much ammo, or salt, or flannel.” 

“Aww, you’re a peach,” Dean said with a happy grin. 

“Are we free to go?” Castiel asked. 

“What? Yes, of course. I think we’ve all come to an understanding and we feel much better about the situation,” said the first woman. “Sorry about your milkshake, Sam. I- I’ll buy you another, if you’d like? Just you and me,” she added with a wink. 

“What? Um… s-sure,” Sam stammered. “I could go for a milkshake.” They strolled off toward the shake shop together. 

“Well, looks like we’ve got a while to wait,” Dean said as he gathered the bags of ammo from the woman’s arms. “How about a spin, sweetheart?” 

“I call shotgun!” she declared gleefully, hurrying toward the Impala. 


End file.
